


On My Way to Believing

by prolixdreams



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Coda, Cute, First Kiss, Fix-It, Love Confessions, M/M, Missing Scene, Post 10x13, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff, pre 10x14
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 19:43:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3353051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prolixdreams/pseuds/prolixdreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas and Dean go on a stakeout to dispatch some spirits that show up once a year, every February 14th at the old SMC Cartage building in Chicago, but they've both got other things on their minds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On My Way to Believing

**Author's Note:**

> This is written and meant to take place before 10x14... the way I would prefer things to be.

"Dean." Cas breaks the heavy silence in the car, a crease appearing at the center of his forehead. "I believe that Sam may have been untruthful with you."

"Untruthful?" Dean takes a swig of coffee.

"I wasn't sure how to tell you. I am aware you two have had your difficulties regarding honesty in the past, and I don't wish to open old wounds, or sew discontent, but I'm fairly certain of this and I felt you should know."

"Well, spill."

"He declined to accompany you on this stakeout, because he was feeling ill, but as far as I could detect, his body was in no worse condition than usual." Cas confesses, looking almost relieved to have it off his chest. "Unless it was something beyond my ability to--"

"C'mon man, you scared me there for a minute." Dean says through a little huff of laughter.

"You aren't upset?" Cas asks.

"Dude, I don't think he even _slept_ last night. He was the one that found most of those old warehouse bricks with the guys' blood on 'em. I'm no good at that stuff, I'd never have gotten it all ready by the 14th. If he wants to beg off the grand finale, he's kinda earned it... Now, if those guys would just show up, already..." Dean peers into the mist in the courtyard at 2122 North Clark Street. "I don't want to torch the bricks until we can see 'em, to make sure they _all_ go poof."

"Are you frightened?"

"Of a few dead mobsters?" Dean's voice is awash with incredulity. "Honestly if Sam had told me the story earlier I'd have bet some other hunter would have put these guys to rest already. Not exactly high stakes stuff."

"Not the mobsters. That's what I mean." Cas goes on. "You and Sam didn't have to do this. It's hardly urgent, anyone could have taken care of it, but even with everything going on, you made a detour _away_ from Cain. I thought that perhaps you subconsciously--"

"Alright, Sigmund, that's about enough of that." Dean bristles.

"There's nothing wrong with talking about it."

"There's nothing wrong with _not_ talking about it."

"Alright, I'll start." Cas pushes. "I do feel afraid, and when you decided to stay an extra couple of days to put these ghosts to rest... I felt glad to have more time. You know, when I was human, I had thought that if I ever became an angel again, all those _feelings_ would just evaporate, or at least get... quieter, like they used to be."

"What's that like, anyway?" Dean asks.

"Human vessels and human sensations tend to go hand in hand - the longer one stays, the more noticeable it becomes. We were discouraged from lingering without a break, but still, it was always like a radio with a volume control. Turn it down, and it becomes nothing more than a little noise in the background."

"So you got some mojo back, but the dial's still busted?" Dean ventures. "Metatron sent you back as a human in the same meatsuit - I never heard of that before. You think that's got something to do with it?"

"I would imagine so. At any rate, it's troublesome. The distraction alone seems like a possible problem. Actually, I've been meaning to discuss--"

"Sssh!" Dean interrupts him. "Look."

He follows the line of Dean's finger to the courtyard where the SMC Cartage warehouse wall once stood. Seven hazy figures file in, flickering gently in the Saturday morning sun. Their appearance in the daytime alone sets them apart, but it's also why they'd be almost invisible if no one was looking for them.

"Ready?" Dean whispers.

One by one, they form an line against one spot in the air, their arms above their heads in clear surrender.

"Now."

Cas twists his body and places a hand on the pile of bricks in the back seat. A blue glow sparks behind his eyes and beneath his palm. There's a distant whine and a sudden pop, and the bricks disintegrate into dust.

All at once, the seven ghosts go up in their own little burst of light.

"We got 'em!" Dean takes a deep breath, and then surveys the pile of ash and powder coating the back seat and car floor. "Eugh. Next stop, gas station vacuum cleaner."

Cas watches Dean's movements - the quirk of his mouth and the dance of his thumbs across the capacitive surface of his phone, no doubt reporting back to Sam. He watches the re-positioning of Dean's body in his seat, and the tendons of his hand as his fist closes around the gearshift.

Maybe he shouldn't say anything.

He'd been content for so long to simply exist alongside Dean. All the doubts and anxieties he'd long pushed down had been set free the moment he touched Dean Winchester's soul in hell. Instead of making things more complicated, everything had become clear for the fist time. The uneasy, rudderless feeling he'd assumed he'd carry until the end of time had evaporated completely. Through the fear and the pandemonium and the mistakes and the madness, not once did he lose sight of Dean. No matter how thick the fog, Dean was the lantern along the path.

It's simply not the sort of thing that Dean is equipped to hear.

He watches Dean's arms guide the steering wheel to the left. The car glides over the low curb and into the gas station parking lot, until it's pulled right up to the vacuum cleaner on the far side of the squat building.

Distantly, Cas is aware of Dean getting out of the car, saying something about going to get quarters for the machine.

Humanity and all of its little quirks had muddied the waters considerably.

The first time he'd masturbated to thoughts of Dean, he'd been overcome with guilt and spent the little money he'd managed to assemble on enough liquor to drink the feeling away. That only led to his confessing his deed to an ersatz dive bar companion at least as drunk as he was. The drunk, however, seemed to think that it was normal enough, that Cas hadn't done anything too awful - though he'd be best served keeping quiet about it anyway.

More than anything else, this had relieved Cas, not because it meant he hadn't done wrong, but rather because he secretly hated the idea of having to abandon his new-found fantasies.

They weren't all sexual in nature. More often than not, his imagination conjured nothing more than Dean simply _being there._

Sometimes Dean would be stretched out next to Cas on the floor in the back room of the Gas-N-Sip, other times he'd be walking next to Cas on a busy street, making comments about passers-by.

Sometimes Cas would feel angry with Dean for _not_ being there in real life, and would imagine saying something that would hurt him back, but that made him feel more guilty than anything else by far.

Ultimately, he'd simply made the mistaken assumption that it was all temporary - that Dean's visits would grow sparse and the feelings would fade over time, as human infatuations were alleged to do in the absence of their object, or that he'd get his grace back and be done with it.

Neither had come to pass, leaving him at a fork in the road.

The sudden noise of the vacuum hose in the seat behind him pulls him back to reality. He turns around, to see Dean bending into the backseat with a look of dark concern.

"You alright, buddy?" Dean hollers over the roar.

"I'm in love with you." Cas says back, in much the same sort of tone he'd use to remark on an interestingly shaped tree, or the translation of a bit of text in an obscure language.

Dean turns to stone, the muscles in his face all lock into position, his hand unmoving, vacuuming the same patch of car seat for several long seconds. Beneath the frozen surface, he is considering the odds of having misheard the words beneath the vacuum's commotion, but his inner calculator returns a great big ERROR.

"Y..." Dean furrows his brow, points to his ear, and shakes his head. "You what?"

"I'm in love with you." Cas repeats.

Dean takes a fast, deep breath, and then another, examining every pore on Cas' face for some sign that he might be mistaken, finding nothing of the sort.

He doesn't even try to respond it words, he knows it's useless. Instead, he drops the vacuum and reaches out with both hands, leaning awkwardly over the low seat-back to close the distance. His hands grasp for purchase in Cas' hair, pulling him in. Their mouths collide and it's like he's finally broken the surface after being lost underwater for years. 

It isn't until a quarter's worth of time on the vacuum cleaner is done that they remember themselves and come away breathing like they'd just sprinted a mile.

"I uh.." Dean laughs a little, mostly at himself. "You-- I never-- I figured it wasn't the same for, you know..."

The smile on Cas' lips is small at first, but it grows, and it's contagious. Dean's can't do anything about it, he can feel the stupid grin staking its claim on him, too. He rubs his own face in an effort to collect himself.

"Sammy's gonna..." He groans into his palms. "Of course it _would_ be on Valentine's day. I'm never, ever gonna hear the end of this. "

Dean slots another quarter into the vacuum.

The drive back to the motel is quiet, but comfortable, until they pull into the parking space. Dean turns off the car, but he doesn't get out. He just sits, eyes fixed on the empty space between him and the wheel.

"You don't have to say anything, if you don't want to." Cas says.

"What? No, Cas, I'm not gonna-- no. This is a thing, okay?" Dean seems almost offended at first, and then he chuckles. "Besides, this is _Sam_  we're talking about. He probably already knows, somehow. He's got spidey-sense, or something. It's terrifying."

 

* * *

 

As it turns out, _this is a thing_ is about as articulate as Dean gets on the matter for some time.

When they finally track down Cain once and for all, the man takes one look at Dean, and one look at Cas, and he greets them both with nothing less than a full-bore bear hug.

Into Dean's ear, he whispers three words:

"Don't fuck up."

 


End file.
